Distance
by Takigawa Aki
Summary: Kyouya is forced to confront possibilities in himself when Mukuro begins to sicken. How could they have ever expected the Vendice not to take vengeance for all the times Mukuro had rebelled? 1869 TYL


**Prompt: ** Hibari/Mukuro - self-proclaimed; "You're not allowed to die before I get to you" (KHRFest)

**Distance**

It was something about the prison.

He was not a scientific man and he would never pretend to be. He was a man of action, not of observation and infinite patience. Thus, he did not understand what was happening but for the fact that something was wrong. Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

Chrome had been complaining of a headache a dull pain in her stomach for days and one of the many girls that seemed to hang around Sawada Tsunayoshi had taken her aside and given her something, saying it was a "girl thing." Kyouya had paid no attention, though that voice was hard to shut out when the petite girl was distressed.

A few days later she'd begun to get nosebleeds. That had worried the other girls, who would squawl in their annoying way and fall over themselves to try and comfort the youngest. Kyouya had begun to take note in the corner of his mind as Chrome started to get lethargic, often turning down meals and sitting in odd positions as if she was in pain. Then she'd begun coughing up blood.

When she was made to eat and drink something, she soon threw it back up, along with enough blood that even Kyouya's brows furrowed a little and he glanced up at her face. It was too pale. That was when the baby—Reborn, they all called him—told Tsunayoshi he better check what was going on in Vendice, because Chrome's troubles seemed to be with the illusory organs Mukuro had provided and so flawlessly kept going until now. The only time they had failed was when he had been wounded.

And, inexplicably, that had bothered Kyouya.

The brunette young man returned to tell them all that there was some sort of problem with the cell Vendice was keeping Mukuro in, something that was sickening him, skewing his mind, which was his only outlet to the outside, but the prison keepers refused to move him, saying it had been designed to do this over time as his long-term punishment. Upon hearing that the Cloud guardian had walked out of the room suddenly, his weapons already drawn, and taken out his sudden burst of rage on a few targets outside because there was nothing moving readily available. The fact that he did not know why he was frustrated only made him angrier until he tired himself out, the targets battered to pieces. His old teacher, who had been visiting to help Tsunayoshi with some mafia business, laid a hand on his shoulder, which rose and fell heavily with each strained breath, and guided him in for a rest with an understanding, slightly concerned expression that only infuriated him more but he had come to expect from the blonde.

He had walked to his quarters, a large suite that went with little use, undecorated and starkly organized, and taken a shower in water as hot as the faucet would produce. Normally he liked baths, just to soak in them, was comfortable with the tradition of them and the proper way to take them. But sometimes he didn't have the patience for the many steps involved or for the tub to fill with the perfect temperature of water. He wanted to scald his skin red and scrub his scalp until it stung.

And that was what he did. By the time he stepped out, skin pink and just beginning to wrinkle, his frustration had faded to a very manageable amount. Any thought about the Vendice irritated him and so he avoided them though he didn't know why. He toweled his hair dry, leaving it as it was because it would fall into its normal precarious position as always, and dressed in a crisp black suit. He left the jacket open like he usually did because when they were buttoned they restricted his shoulders.

Before he realized what he was doing he had walked to the main room, where any of the Guardians could usually be found between meals and during the day. As expected, the decimo sat at a wide table in the corner, now seeming to be in an important discussion with the Cavallone boss. Dino looked over when he walked in and offered a tiny nod of greeting before turning back to the Vongola boss. Kyouya didn't hesitate, walked directly towards them, heedless of the pointed look he got from the Storm guardian.

Tsunayoshi looked up with a curious gaze, one eyebrow raised. His companion gave a wry smile at his old student's nerve to interrupt them but didn't speak, waiting for Kyouya to say whatever he needed to.

"Tell the Vendice that I want to speak to Rokudou Mukuro," he told the brunette sharply, his expression unreadable. "Tonight."

Gokudera was on his feet and had stepped forward, about to protest to Kyouya's tone, but a sharp shake of the head from Tsunayoshi made him stop, scowl, and sit back down, though he seemed ready to stand again and challenge the Cloud guardian. "Why is that, Hibari-san?" the boss asked simply, his head tilted a little to the side.

That made him tense a little. He lifted his chin as if daring the man to make a speculation and, finding no answers on his tongue, turned and quit the room, much to the chagrin of the Cavallone and the anger of the Vongola's second in command. Honestly, he didn't know why he'd gone in the first place, nor why those words had popped out of his mouth. They even worried him, and he did not like being worried. He liked eradicating whatever might cause the weak sensation. Worry was for herbivores; initiative was for carnivores.

He napped until someone knocked on his door. Irritated at having been woken up, he answered the door gruffly and found that the boss was standing there, looking rather serious. Immediately Kyouya sobered, awaiting the news.

"To speak with Mukuro directly he would have to be removed from his cell," he said with a small frown. "The Vendice refuse to do that. But they said that they will tell him you wish to speak with him so he can use an illusion to speak with you instead. That will have to suffice." It seemed to irritate Tsunayoshi a little but he said nothing more, only giving the man a shrewd look, waiting a moment for a reply that didn't come, and turned to walk back to his office.

Of course, he should have expected that he could not talk to the criminal directly. Rokudou Mukuro would not be taken from his tank just to speak with someone who might even try to break him out, being a guardian of the same family. An illusion was the best he could expect. How long would it be before the Mist couldn't manage even that, the far-reaching projections he controlled so deftly? He doubted that he would use Chrome's body to interact with the surroundings this time, but simply make do with only a sensory illusion instead of one that could affect the real world.

A few hours later, he was waiting, sitting sideways on the wide windowsill, his head turned to look distantly out at the garden that sprawled around the Vongola manor. A small sound made him turn his head. The hair on the back of his neck did not rise like it normally did with Mukuro's appearance, perhaps because his senses knew this was the most basic of illusions, of no threat.

However, it did rise at the sight of him. The form was a little blurred like Mukuro could not hold the shape in too much detail, and there were imperfections that he had never seen before. The way Mukuro made shadows seem to fall on him didn't quite match the shadows in the room; it seemed as if perhaps he was a little out of proportion in the way that made his mind shy away but he couldn't put his finger on.

For a moment they were quiet. Then Mukuro straightened a little bit, his lips a thin line of focus, and the shape came together a little better, though the small flaws were still dizzying. "Do you want to gloat over the fall of your rival?" he asked softly. There was a tinny quality to his voice, like it was coming from a long way away, though it was loud enough to hear. The illusion's knuckles were white on the trident. Why bring the weapon when he couldn't use it? He had nothing to fear in this form, nor did those he appeared to. Perhaps it comforted him; it couldn't be for intimidation, because he would be able to intimidate no one in this state.

Kyouya stepped forward, ignoring the puzzled look he earned, and without thinking reached forward to push a long piece of hair away from Mukuro's eyes. His hand passed through the illusion, leaving a blurred path for a moment before the shape sharpened again, revealing a cross look from the Mist. But he didn't voice his annoyance, only waited to see what the other man would say.

"How long have you known?" he finally asked, his voice gruff.

Mukuro blinked before his lips turned upwards ruefully. "Years," he murmured softly. "But it was slow and I knew there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it."

He was quiet a moment, mulling over the information. It angered him for some reason. "So you're just going to give up and die slowly?"

The illusion shrugged. "There's no enemy to fight for it." He said it calmly, almost dismissively, as if he'd become accustomed to the fact. "And it's gaining momentum. Taking over my systems. By the time I found a way around it I would be beyond repair."

He had the urge to touch the man before him, but he knew that he couldn't, and that frustration added insult to injury. Without looking he smashed his fist into the wall, his eyes narrowed angrily, and the drywall gave through. His hand went through and a nail slashed him but he paid no attention, focusing on the slightly wavering Mist before him. Mukuro's eyebrow had risen but he gave no other sign of having noticed the odd outburst.

"You want to be the one to kill me so badly?" he asked softly, distant curiosity in his words.

Looking at all the weaknesses betrayed by that illusion, it made him feel ashamed to have ever been beaten by someone with the ability to be so helpless, let alone who would not fight. He was backing down, and to Kyouya that was the lowest thing one could do. It made him angry that he had been bested by someone who would do that; and it angered him that it was Mukuro who was dying, locked in his cell.

He wanted to grab the man in front of him by the collar and shove him against the wall. But he couldn't. He would have punched the wall again if not for the pain in his knuckles that reminded him of the nail he'd hit. A tetanus shot would be necessary later but for now he only focused on keeping his calm. Mukuro would leave if he lost control and annoyed the illusionist, and Kyouya could not stop him. Another thing to be angry about. Being helpless.

Instead he stepped forward so he stood only an inch from the illusion, whose expression had faded into a tired puzzlement as if he expected some sort of blow. Did he truly expect Kyouya to gloat over the downfall of the powerful man? "You're not allowed to die," he hissed, "before I get to you."

At first there was vague amusement on Mukuro's face. Then it faded into surprise at the last. He blinked at the Cloud, who glared at him impassively, and his eyes seemed to tighten a little. "What," he whispered so Kyouya had to strain to hear, "you're going to come and rescue me from Vendice?"

There was something he couldn't understand in his tone, some implication, some underlaid emotion, but he refused to dwell on it. Now more than ever he wanted to touch him, to cuff him for being so stupid, but he only clenched his fist, feeling the warm blood flow down his fingers and drip onto the carpet. The sting was nothing more than an annoyance. "Yes," he answered, his tone steely. "I'll smash the prison walls and drag you out if I have to."

Mukuro's expression was something alien, an odd softness as he raised an arm and seemed to try to touch Kyouya's cheek. Only a faint feeling of cold did, as if he'd been touched by a ghost. The thought made his stomach tighten uncomfortably. "I'll be waiting then," he murmured. "For you." He leaned closer and for a moment the man thought that they'd be able to touch, imagined he could feel the illusionist's breath on his cheek before their lips touched, but it was only a coldness that pervaded him. He hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until he opened them to find an empty room.

"Mukuro," he whispered, frowning. It felt empty suddenly in a way it had never felt empty before.

He was only imagining the faint laughter in his ears as he left the room to find a way into Vendice.


End file.
